


Sticky Fingers

by LaughableLament



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn-masquerade, Established Relationship, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/pseuds/LaughableLament
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The damnedest things get Sam all hot and bothered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sticky Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://spn-masquerade.livejournal.com/6017.html?thread=1757057#t1757057), part of Supernatural Masquerade Round 3.

“That’s fucking gross, Dean.”

Sam wrinkled his nose at Dean’s epic sandwich. Peanut butter and banana with strawberry jelly. Stacked high, three slices of bread, gooey goodness squishing out the sides.

“One,” Dean stuck a sticky finger in the air, counting, “you ain’t gotta eat it, so shut the fuck up. And two,” a glob of jelly trailed down his middle finger, “I’da thought you’d approve. Used your hippie farmer’s market bread and actual fruit and everything.”

Sam shot Dean a look from the side of his eyes. “You’re gonna end up wearing half of that, and it’s my turn to do laundry.” He went back to fixing his own lunch, probably some kinda pussy cucumber and cream cheese bullshit.

“Aww, come on, Sammy…” Dean offered his best pout. Added a singsong, “It’s delicious…”

And for real, he just meant to wave a hand under his brother’s nose. But Sam turned at the perfect moment to get peanut butter and jelly smeared right across his mouth.

“What the hell, man?”

“Shit. Shit, dude. Sorry.” Dean reached with his (relatively) clean hand and swiped at his brother’s lips. Fingers dragged at the skin, pressing and tugging, all around making it worse.

A wicked look and Sam pulled Dean’s fingers in. Curled his tongue and worked his jaw, the whole nine. Dean sucked in a breath.

“Hm.” Sam grunted, pulled off with a pop. “Guess you’re right. It’s not so bad.” Eyebrows raised and chin lowered, Sam might as well have double-dog-dared Dean.

His pants started tightening up in the crotch.

Holding his little brother’s gaze he loaded two fingers with strawberry-peanutty goop. A smoldering grin broke across Sam’s face. He licked his lips, let his jaw fall open.

Tickle-soft, Dean teased Sam’s upper lip with a peak of peanut butter. Sam’s tongue stretched out, pink and shining. Stroked Dean’s knuckles. Slicked his fingers.

“Jesus, Sam.” Hypnotized, he locked eyes on the bow of Sam’s mouth.

Sam closed his lips and sucked. Dean’s nails pressed into the roof of his mouth and Sam licked the pads of his fingers clean. A filthy, hungry kind of hum sent goosebumps spreading across Dean’s neck.

He pulled his hand free. Plucked a banana slice from his sandwich, damn near dripping with sugary strawberry. And all at once Sam grabbed his belt loops, slammed him into the ancient avocado-colored fridge. It rocked alarmingly.

Sam stretched his mouth wide and took Dean’s thumb and forefinger down to the knuckles. Slid back. Held the tips captive between his lips while he chewed, eyes closed and dick hard against Dean’s belly.

“Want more,” Sam rumbled. Worked their jeans open while Dean scooped up another fingerful.

They both groaned when Sam wrapped a hand around their straining cocks. Wrapped his lips around Dean’s fingers and worked them over. Bobbed his head and flicked his tongue. He spread their mingled slick around and squeezed, just shy of painful.

Dean made to pull away, feed Sam another bite but a giant hand seized, stilled his wrist. Sam picked up his pace and sucked down fingers one by one. Dug his tongue into the tender spots between them. He even licked Dean’s palm, rooted under his ring. A fucking cat bath.

Dean panted. Threw his head back with a thump against the fridge but never took his eyes off Sam. He felt sweat trickle down his temples, ride the valley of his spine. He writhed and bucked and shivered. Fell apart like he always did under his brother’s onslaught.

“Sam,” he breathed by way of warning.

Sam nodded, shoved their hips together and smashed his mouth into Dean’s. Hints of peanut butter lingered in Sam’s bone-shaking kiss. When he drew back and sank his teeth into Dean’s bottom lip he erupted.

Sam squeezed harder, bit his own lip. Three or four more pulls and, “God, Dean.” Panting, grinning, leaning hard against his brother. Sam stroked them slow through the comedown.

Took a good five minutes before Dean could stand on his own.

“Okay, now _that’s_ fuckin’ gross,” he complained at the mess of his mangled sandwich. Never mind the sticky spit and jizz all over the place.

“Worth it,” Sam shrugged. Scrubbed his hands in the sink.

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Even though it’s your turn to do laundry?”

“Yup.” Sam grabbed his sandwich and flopped on his bed. “’Cause it’s your turn to clean up the kitchen.”

Dean groaned. Smug little shit.


End file.
